Snow Field
by HarukaChan143
Summary: Gwen, a sophomore in high school, has inexplicably found herself with an admirer-turned-stalker that wont take a hike. She is not pleased. She intends to let him know the extents of her displeasure. It does not go quite as expected. Fluff amassed. Gwen/Cody. Rated T for Language. Gwen has a potty mouth.


AN\ This story takes place a few weeks after my oneshot 'Peculiar'. You don't need to read that to understand this one, but I'd naturally recommend it :P

xxxxx

Gwen had had just about _enough_ of this boy.

He was a year below her with a gap in his teeth and an entirely too confident attitude for someone who gets roughed up on a semi-regular basis by the football team. He called himself the 'Codesmeister', like he didn't think he got beat up enough, walked and strutted like he was all that, and smiled and grinned like he _expected_ every girl at school to fawn all over him, despite getting repeatedly rejected everytime.

And he wont. Stop. _Asking her out._

It doesn't help that LeShawna found the whole situation hysterical.

It doesn't help that he'd taken to following her around now.

 _(Did he really think she couldn't recognize him under that hat?)_

Gwen turned a corner in the street, and leaned against the wall, and waited. Sure enough, Casanova walked in, sending covert glances around and tugging down on that stupid hat. Gwen's mouth twisted in a scowl. She had had _enough_.

She grabbed him by the collar, and shoved him against the brick wall. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

The back of his head smacked against the wall. He gasped. "H-Hey there, G-Gwen! F-fancy seein-"

"Don't fucking play with me. What do you think you're doing, following me around." It was a demand. He seemed to know that.

"I-I Love you!" He blurted, then slapped his hand to his mouth. She growled. He opened his mouth again, quickly, before a stream of words came pouring out. "I-I really like you, Gwen, I swear- I know I'm not much to look at or much of anything at all, really, but I'll treat you right, I swear, I liked you for a very long time just- please give me a chance!"

Gwen let go of his shirt and stared at this idiot, flabbergasted. How could anyone just go around _saying_ stuff like that? What the _fuck_? He was at his wit's end, it seems, because for all his obvious shortcomings, for all the trashing he gets, she'd never once heard him talk down on himself before.

But she was at her wit's end, too.

"Why do you even _like_ me?" She nearly shouted. And that was what perplexed her the most. Trent was a musician, he liked her poetry, and she supposed her dark clothes and hair provided a nice little mystery for him; she and Duncan had almost everything in common, skulls and rockbands and colors in their hair, and he loved her relaxed attitude, but _this_ \- this boy's infatuation with her, she couldn't explain.

"I-" He seemed at a loss for words, and despite herself, Gwen felt herself holding her breath.

"I like your drawings!" Of all the things, that's what came out of his mouth in the end. She stared.

"I-In middle school, I mean- you were in the art club and won a big tournament and everything, and they had that drawing framed and put up on the wall next to the classroom on the second floor and- I loved it. I loved it. I used to stare at it, in bad days." He paused. He looked down. "I had a lot of bad days. Sometimes I get in a horrible mood and I get horrible thoughts, like I can't even get out of bed, and I'd go and just stare at that drawing of a snowfield and- and- I get better."

Gwen stared at him. She didn't know what to think. She felt her face heating up.

"...You really liked it?"

He peeked up at her, then looked away again. His next words were muttered so quietly she almost missed it.

"...It saved me."

There was a long stretch of silence between them where neither of them knew what to say, before he coughed into his hand, and shifted his weight from foot to foot- it seemed like he was very uncomfortable, feeling a little too exposed after what he'd just said. Oddly, she found him more appealing this way; vulnerable and geniune and unpressumptious. "A-Anyway I'm- I'm sorry about following you around and everything I- I gotta go." He stammered out, and picked the silly hat off the floor, and was about to leave, when she grabbed a fistful of his sweater and yanked him back.

"No more of your Casanova crap." She said, sharply. "No more basic pick up lines, no more following me around or asking me out every five seconds, no more 'Codesmeister'- and for _fucks sake_ , no more of those _stupid_ flowers and poems at my locker _every fucking morning._ "

He stared at her for a moment, shocked, until she snapped, "Is that clear!"

"C-Clear! Y-Yes! Very clear!" He squeaked, "D-Does that... Does that mean-"

"It means I'm going to _tolerate_ you." she said, leaning back a bit, "We'll see if that goes anywhere."

She turned around, and started walking down the street. She was already on her way to grab a bite anyway. "Well?" she called over her shoulder, when he remained unmoving, "Don't just stand there!"

He snapped out of his daze and scrambled to catch up with her. Gwen turned around and bit back a smile. What a dork.

xxxxxx

AN\ This was originally a oneshot, but it wouldn't leave my head so I decided to write another chapter. It will be up soon, if all goes well. Tell me what you think in the mean time!


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